


the Plaza Hotel

by Writer207



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Bill is an emotional mess, Post-Apotheosis (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Short Story, can be read separately though, don't expect too much plot, same universe as "nothing left to lose", surviving in the city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer207/pseuds/Writer207
Summary: Bill wakes up in a city he doesn't know, meets people he doesn't know and finds a safe haven with them from the musical zombies that are wandering around pretty much everywhere. To top it all off, he remembers he failed to save Alice.You'd break down in tears for less.(companion piece to Nothing left to lose, but can be read and understood separately)
Relationships: Alice & Bill (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Awake

Bill woke up on a cold floor.

Except it wasn't a floor - it was an abandoned road. 

This was not what he’d expected.

Bill got up and looked around. He came to the conclusion he had no idea where he was. It was a big city he either was not familiar with or had not recognized yet. Or maybe he was in some suburbs. If he could find his way to a defining feature of this city, he might be able to identify his location and go home.

But something unnerved him. These buildings around him were like towers, with here and there a tree to give the impression there was more green than there actually was. He was in a city, but it was awfully quiet.

He’d been to a city before. It was loud and busy and not to his taste at all. He’d prefer the calm and quiet of Hatchetfield over the buzz in, say, New York any day. But he’s been once, and so he knew that silence such as this one was highly unusual for a city, where something was happening at every hour.

On top of that, there seemed to be nobody around.

“Hello?”

Nobody answered.

“Paul? Ted? Is anybody out there?”

Again no response.

Bill was alone. Not even a bird in the sky squawked, not even a single squirrel ran over the tree’s branches, nothing reminded him there was still someone out there. It was silent, he was all alone, and that while he was probably awfully far from home.

Bill looked around again. The city was, for a lack of better words, post-apocalyptic. But not in the way the movies often depicted it, with destroyed or overgrown buildings or different species having gained sentience and creating their own unique architecture out of human builds. No, this looked like the early stages of the city being taken back by nature. The abandoned cars standing on the sides were still in pristine condition, though some had broken windshields or slashed tires. Weeds and grasses grew through the cracks on the pavement beside them, some of them had climbed up the walls a little. Give it time and the homes would be overgrown and the cars would be rusted.

"What the hell happened?”

And it all came back to him. The meteor struck the Starlight Theater. People started singing and dancing like they were in a musical, controlled by some blue shit. Then Sam was infected and then Charlotte, and then Alice, too…

Alice…

_Not your girl anymore._

“God, no, Alice.”

He placed his hands against his head, pressed his hat to his head and broke down in tears. His little girl… He hadn't saved her. He couldn’t save her. Was he ever able to save her?

Unwarranted insults flashed through his mind. He'd tried his best. For her. The divorce was messier than planned, her life turned upside down and having to live in Clivesdale, of all places (every Hatchetfield native’s nightmare). Two worlds. Bill tried so hard to make things more comfortable for her, but of course his ex tried to set Alice up against him by spreading false rumors and doing extraordinary things to impress her while Bill barely got by and had to be content with trying.

Now she was gone. No more trips to the theater. No more awkward moments at the dinner table, fighting over the remote and inside jokes. No more tucking her in while she's sick, no more trying to keep up with high school drama and accidentally having to defend Grace Chastity.

Oh, Alice…

Bill fell over, didn't hurt himself. He curled up in a ball and cried and cried and cried. He was loud and his wails echoed in the street, he didn’t care. There was nobody. Why care about what anyone else might think when there was nobody around who could judge him? 

This was it. His life had officially ended. For what purpose did his life have now that he failed to save his daughter and to protect her? He tried, but it hadn't been enough. Her life had ended in his care. She would never get up again,so why should he?

“Hello?”

_Wait, what?_

Bill opened his eyes and lifted his head. He couldn’t immediately stop the tears, but the sound of another human being was enough to at least snap him out of the sorry state. Before him stood two teenagers - at least, he guessed they were teenagers. They had young faces and couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. Both wore what Bill assumed to be warm clothing and they had an expression on their face that would have made them look welcoming, if not for the guns they held.

“Are you okay?” The black-haired girl asked. She seemed nice.

Bill shook his head. “No, I’m not.” He then looked at them again. Something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was something with the way they spoke. Or maybe that they spoke instead of something else. 

And then it all came back. “Wait, you’re not—”

“No,” the boy said. “Good eye.” 

They weren’t singing. Neither was he, which was good. But this wasn’t Hatchetfield, or did he forget what the city looked like in some freak accident? His mind was a mess and he could not untangle it right now, not while Alice was still present. 

“What’s going on?” Bill asked the teenagers. “Where is everyone?”

The girl might have wanted to answer, but the boy tilted his head and was quicker.

“How long have you been crying?”

The girl slapped the boy on his arm. “Duke!”

“Just asking,” Duke said, lifting his arms. Maybe it mattered how long he’d been crying. Maybe he tried to insinuate that Bill cried long enough not to notice anything. Which was ridiculous. Bill definitely liked the girl more than Duke.

“How much do you about the infection?” she asked Bill.

“That’s the blue shit, right?” Bill almost regretted asking this question when he saw the confused looks in their eyes. They did seem to know what he was talking about, because Duke nodded. “Not much. I was in Hatchetfield when it started. And then…” 

“Hatchetfield?” Duke interrupted him. He shook his head. “Man, you’re a long way from home.”

So, he was not in Hatchetfield. Good to know. He figured this place did not look like Hatchetfield at all. Nice to know he wasn’t going crazy - or too crazy that he wouldn’t recognize his hometown. Where everyone else must still be. Charlotte, Ted, Paul, Emma, and her professor. Alice. 

“That blue shit, as you put it, it spread rapidly.” The girl explained. “It’s gotten all across the mainland.”

“Those in Hawaii must be glad not to be here right now,” Duke commented rather uselessly. “On any island, really. Except for, you know, Hatchetfield.”

“You’re lucky you’re not infected yet,” the girl quickly said, so that Bill may not need to think too much of Duke’s inappropriate comment. Bill nodded.

“Yes, I am. I just—” He paused.

The infection spread everywhere if he believed them - he did. It was everywhere, hence the guns and the cautious stance and distance they initially held. But they had come closer and lowered their guns. 

“How do you know I’m not infected?”

“You’re not singing,” Duke said. “Or dancing. Or smiling excessively or promising a happier life. Neither are we.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah.” What was he thinking? Of course they knew because he wasn’t singing. They knew for the exact same reason he knew they weren’t infected. Stupid. Or no, he was just distracted. Extremely distracted by recent memories, change of scenery and the improbability of it all.

“Where did you even come from?” The girl wondered. “Not to be rude, but we’ve been here for a while and we’ve never seen you around. When did you arrive?”

That was a good question. When did he come here? And even better, for how long has he been here, unable to process any memories of this place because of something. Bill tried to answer, but he gave up rather easily.

“Just arrived, I guess,” he answered.

“Guess?” The girl repeated, and Bill nodded. She could not believe he had to guess.

Duke leaned in closer to her. “I think he’s so traumatized he barely remembers.”

“Is that possible?” The girl asked, turning her head to Duke.

“I don’t know.” Duke shrugged. “I’m not a brain doctor. You’re the undergrad.”

“In game design,” the girl pointed out. 

“You're still an undergrad, Lee,” Duke commented. “And therefore smarter than I’ll ever be. But look at him.” He paused to point at Bill, who still tried to wipe the last tears from his face in the hopes of presenting himself at least in a good light. “We can’t just leave him here, he’ll be taken in minutes, especially if he continues to wail like that.”

Had Bill been wailing? He didn’t know. Maybe he cried loudly enough that it qualified as wailing, but he wouldn’t know. He was too busy mourning Alice to care if anyone heard. 

“I don’t know,” Lee said. 

And at that moment, Bill realized just how much he wanted to go with them, to not be left all alone in the world. He couldn’t bear to stay on his own any longer and feared he would completely be destroyed if left alone with his own torturous mind. 

“Please,” Bill said, standing up. “I-I don’t want to be a burden, but also — I don’t know where to start or where it’s safe here. If you’re willing to take me, I’ll stay only a few days. I don’t want to cause any trouble.” And if he showed good behavior, he might be able to stay a little longer. 

“I say we take him in,” Duke said. Bill sighed - all the relief, all the stress, washed over him. Tears of joy welled up, a sharp contrast to the tears of grief he shed before. 

“If something happens, it’s your fault,” Lee told him. Duke nodded confidently.

“I’m willing to take that responsibility. He looks weak.” He quickly turned to Bill. “No offense.”

“Thank you!” Bill shouted between tears. If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, he might’ve jumped on them and embraced them a little too tightly. “Thank you so much!”

They waited for him to be calmed down enough to make the journey to their hideout. They guided him deeper into the city, where the tall buildings grew even taller, where there were apartments as well as businesses, hotels and shops and restaurants and parks and everything you might find in a considerably sized city.

Bill didn’t know which city it was, though. The road signs did not help, either. Maybe he should ask someone.

They went deeper and deeper. They may have even passed some building that Bill thought was the city hall. Either way, the roads here were wider, more cars were lined up on the sides or were abandoned mid-drive. One of the back alleys in the heart of the city led them to their hide-out.

“Don’t be afraid,” Duke told him. “They’re not going to be overjoyed to see you. They don’t know you, neither do we. So, don’t be surprised if you’re getting any weird stares.”

Bill frowned. “How many of you are there?”

“About two hundred or so.”

Sorry, what? 

Bill did not vocalize his surprise since they had arrived at the back door of what Bill would later recognize as the standard interior of this city's Plaza hotel, a chain of cheap hotels that had a building or two in every important city as well as in Hatchetfield and a couple of smaller cities. 


	2. Night

Bill had been in a Plaza Hotel before, in Hatchetfield. He was visiting a friend that stayed over in this hotel while he traveled the world. It was easy on the eyes, going for a golden and green look and simplistic furniture. They prided themselves on their great customer service and their killer steak. This hotel chain often got mixed reviews, and Bill himself had mixed feelings on the building as a whole. When he exited the building, he didn’t think he’d ever step inside one again.

Then again, he never expected a musical apocalypse to happen. Anything was possible, such as getting in a Plaza Hotel through its back door. 

Though he wanted to come here, Bill felt like he was out of place. He felt like he was intruding, even though he had been invited in. It was better to be inside than on the outside, where he was susceptible to attacks, but he was also certain he might die from embarrassment and anxiety as soon as he was presented to the majority of the group. 

“Just in time for dinner,” Duke said when they entered the hotel.

“Just in time before curfew sets in,” Lee commented. “If we’d been just a little later, we wouldn’t have been able to enter until the morning.”

“It’s nothing too bad,” Duke then added, to comfort Bill. “I mean, it’s just to make sure everyone returns home on time and so that none of us are getting snuck up on in the night.”

They did not bring him to his room; they did not explain much to him. They did not say much - well, Duke talked, but the conversations did not have much substance. 

They did not appoint him a room. They did bring him immediately to the hotel’s cafeteria, which still functioned as their main eating area. It was just easier that way, Bill supposed. Luckily, not many people noticed them entering the room. Most were sitting around and eating, or they were just talking. They even had what looked like a lunch lady on duty, except she did not give people their food (there was a buffet ready) but she did make sure they did not take too much of anything that the hospital had in stock. How much did they have left?

Duke and Lee immediately went to the buffet. Bill trailed behind them, looking around nervously. He could feel their gazes. Most of the people probably just glanced to see who had entered and then continued what they were doing, but to Bill, it felt like their eyes were burning holes in his back and sides. 

“Don’t worry,” Duke then said. “This isn’t everyone in this building. Not everyone eats at the same time. This is pretty early, we thought you’d be more comfortable with this and maybe socialize later.”

Bill nodded. Yes, this was indeed more comfortable to be lowered down than being thrown off the deep end. Still, he tried to make not as much eye contact as he normally would. Those eyes in his back. He really should try to tell himself he was going to be okay instead of returning to Alice every time his mind fell silent. 

“Hi, Mona!” Lee greeted the lunch lady. She welcomed Lee with one of the widest smiles Bill had ever seen.

“Hi, Lydia,” Her voice sounded like sunshine. “I see you’ve picked up another refugee.”

She briefly turned her head to Bill, who was half-hiding behind her and Duke. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but it was more comfortable than standing in full view.

“We couldn’t leave him,” she said. “Duke’s responsible.”

“His idea?”

Lee nodded. Mona glanced at Duke.

“He needed the help,” Duke said. "He wasn’t going to make it.”

Something touched Bill’s shoulder. He yelped and quickly turned around, his breath rigid. Someone he did not know had snuck up on him, but as soon as Bill panicked, the boy took a couple of steps away. Bill looked at him - he was harmless, just a kid - and then noticed the blanket in his arms.

The boy stretched his arms, offered Bill the blanket. When Bill saw that, he realized how cold it must be in the building as well as outside. He hadn’t felt it, but the blanket reminded him and he shivered. He wordlessly took the blanket and the boy ran away, to his mother, who glanced at him suspiciously. She couldn’t suppress it.

He and Lee both grabbed a bowl and started to fill it with the different foods, once in cans, now displayed in large containers. Under Mona’s strict gaze, they took all they needed.

“You found him like that?” Mona asked. Duke nodded.

“Yeah, we did,” Duke said. “Already wasn’t wearing much. Crying his heart out. Poor guy hails from Hatchetfield.”

Mona shook her head. “I didn’t know anyone came out of there alive.”

“Apparently, he did. Trauma erased most of his memories.”

Mona folded her arms. “Is that what happened or what you think happened?”

“It’s a theory. He’s not saying much.”

“Maybe you should get him something to eat,” Mona tilted her head. “It looks like he could use it.”

Duke frowned and turned around. Bill had been behind him before, but he had gone. He realized the floor was carpeted and it wasn’t hard to sneak away. Duke looked around but soon found Bill in the room. The Hatchetfield native had gone to the side of the room. He sat on the ground, the blanket wrapped around him. His gaze was empty and fixated on one thing. 

“I’ll get it to him,” Duke said. Mona smiled and handed him a second bowl. Duke took it, filled it up, and walked with it to Bill. That man needed help. Preferably a therapist. Unfortunately, their in-home therapist had passed away just a couple of days ago, so now it was up to Duke to talk to him and make him feel more comfortable in his new surroundings. 

Even Duke would agree that was a bad idea, but he was the only one willing to approach Bill at this point (Lee had looked his way, but kept her distance) and it was their best plan.

“Hey,” Duke said. He sat down beside Bill. The man blinked a couple of times and then turned his head to Duke.

“Hi,” he said. Even his voice was emotionless, empty. Duke couldn’t help but wonder what Bill was thinking of, where his mind was going, what images it conjured to torture the poor man. 

“So… you feeling any better?” Duke asked. There came no immediate answer. He glanced at the blanket. “Or at the very least a little warmer?"

Bill took a deep breath and then shrugged. He pulled the blanket closer around him. “I think so.”

Poor man. Duke extended the bowl with food he’d filled for Bill to him. Bill saw him make this movement. But he just stared at it and did not take it from Duke’s hands. Duke decided to place it before Bill’s feet.

“Look, I don’t know if you want some, but I got you some dinner,” He pointed and looked at the bowl, filled to a certain line drawn inside to keep the people from taking too much. “If you don’t immediately want to eat it, you can later ask for it to be reheated. I do recommend you eat, though.”

The response was slow. It wasn’t non-existent, only slower. Bill leaned forward and took the bowl from the dark blue carpet. He must be so out of it as not to feel the warmth of the bowl or to immediately react to it; great loss numbed all senses.

“Thanks for the effort,” Bill spoke in a low voice. “But I’m not feeling hungry.”

“But you gotta eat,” Duke insisted. He brought Bill in and gave him food. Basic hospitality. Also, Bill did not look too good and it might do wonders to eat some warm vegetables. When was the last time Bill had heated canned vegetables?

Bill shook his head. “Not right now.”

There was some silence. Maybe Bill had hoped that Duke would leave so that he could mourn in peace. But Duke did not leave him. Duke had already planned to stay as close to Bill as humanly possible for the next three days so that anyone who encountered Bill wouldn’t go off, but instead would greet Duke and understand this was a new member of the society. 

Bill looked miserable. And Duke wanted to help him, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what exactly was going on. 

“Are you okay?” Duke asked Bill. “You were crying when we found you. What’s going on?”

Maybe he should have rephrased that a little better. Maybe someone who had a little more tact than him would be able to get the answer without bringing Bill to the verge of tears. Then again - new guy, not very appealing to those in their hotel, and Duke was the only one willing to talk to him at this stage.

“I lost Alice,” Bill then said. Tears were indeed forming in his eyes now that he conjured up the picture of Alice, whatever she was to him. 

“Wife?”

“Daughter.”

So he lost his little girl. Or big girl, depending on her age. Duke did not want to dig any deeper than he had to, probably because he did not want to break Bill trying to extract the specific details of what little information he received.

“I’m sorry, man,” Duke said. “You can cry if you want.”

So Bill did. He put the bowl of food next to him, leaned forward, and cried with his face in his hands. It wasn’t as loud as it was in the street, but it was audible on their side of the cafeteria. Duke sat beside him and knew exactly what he needed to do. He extended his hand and rubbed it on Bill’s back and even patted it, to show his support.

“It’s okay,” Duke said, among other things. “Just let it out.” 

When did he become good at this?

Because he had to do this too many times with other people. 

Bill cried for about five minutes until he had no more tears left in him. Duke offered him a tissue and Bill blew his nose. Duke looked at him with empathy, knowing that he could not relate to what Bill was going through because Duke was not a father. He barely got his girl pregnant before the infection spread. The experience of using her was what Duke used to relate to the traumas of other people. 

Bill was still silent, as he clasped his hands together, around the tissue, and looked dead ahead. In this position, Duke could clearly see the scraped skin on Bill’s hand. It did not look all too serious, but it looked like it hurt. Maybe Bill didn’t even know it was there, what with the adrenaline and everything else he’d been through.

“When did you get hurt?” Duke asked him. Bill turned his head and frowned.

“Huh?” He did not even realize he had gotten it hurt.

“Your hand,” Duke helpfully said, with his eyes on the wound. Bill looked at it and quickly covered it with his other hand. 

“It’s nothing,” Bill commented.

“It looks like something.” 

“I must have scraped it on the street.” It had to have happened on the street. Bill could not imagine any other location where this could have happened. He was quite emotional when Duke and Lee had found him. He could have accidentally scraped it when he ran his hands over the concrete when he was mourning Alice.

“You might wanna disinfect that,” Duke said. “You don’t want that blue shit to enter through it. Happened to a friend of mine.”

Brian was a good fellow. He hurt his hand a couple of hours before they left to find supplies in the apartment complex to the south of the hotel. He did not properly disinfect it - honestly, Brian never did have the best hygiene - and later, one of the infected only needed to spit, and then it landed right on the wound Brian was supposed to disinfect and cover. Such a waste of a good man, all because he didn’t clean the wound.

Bill did not hear this full story, but he did not after Duke gave his advice.

“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll go do that now.”

While Bill stood up, Duke remained seated and nodded with a smile on his face.

“Alright,” Duke said. “Don’t forget to eat afterward.”

“I won’t.” And Bill left, following Duke’s finger. It pointed him to the bathroom, a little further along the wall to his right. Bill thanked Duke for the directions and then followed it, to the bathroom. He covered the wound with his hand as if he feared that something inside the cafeteria might infect him, might make him turn into a singing and dancing zombie. He walked at a fast pace, to have done this as soon as he could. 

Bill walked into the men’s room. There was nobody else in there. He walked over to one of the sinks and washed his hands. He had scraped it on the pavement but hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t too bad; it didn’t actually scrape away any piece of skin. None of his bodily fluids had been exposed to the sunlight and air. When he ran his fingers over his hand, it did feel rough, but it was not an open wound. He washed his hands without soap.

Maybe he should check out the other wound.

Bill took a quick look around the bathroom, to make sure that absolutely nobody was inside, and removed his cap. 

In the mirror, he inspected the wound. A clean shot, on the left side of his forehead. It was oozing a little; maybe he should try to wipe it off with a wet paper towel. He went about this meticulously, and soon there was just the wound. It wouldn’t heal, but so long as he attended it and covered it up, nothing bad should happen to him or others. 

Bill put his cap back on and as he stepped away from the sink, someone else entered. They stared at each other in shock - the other guy because the new guy was in the toilet, Bill because he hoped this guy hadn’t seen him without the cap. Eventually, the guy walked past him and went into one of the stalls. Bill exited the bathroom as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 


	3. Asleep

They came in the middle of the night.

Duke woke up at night when the fire alarm was activated. There was no fire in the building - they were certain it was not a fire, at least. Nobody cried fire. They did cry but were drowned out by the alarm. No, it was sounded for another reason. One that meant they had to evacuate immediately and go to their hide-out on the other side of the city. 

This had come sooner than Duke had expected. But oh well, time to pack up and leave.

No. Forget about packing up. He had to leave now. He had to leave fast.

He ran out of his room, glancing only hesitantly at his belongings before bolting. He’d never really liked leaving his belongings behind. He always got attached to every little thing he owned - he would completely agree with being called a hoarder - and though his life depended on it, he was still sad he was leaving behind his favorite shirt.

In the hallway, he bumped into Lee. She had been better prepared. She kept all her essentials in one bag while he was the guy who covered every space of his room with his laundry and other items.

“Hey, Lee!” Duke called out. Lee waited. “Are they here?” They - the infected, the horde, the whatever you could call it. If anyone knew whether it was truly the infected or some other type of emergency, it would be Lee. 

Why did he even ask? Why else would the alarm be sounded if it weren’t for them?

“I think so,” she said. That was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Okay, thanks.” Time to go, then.

Except… “Shit.”

Lee turned to him again, sure that he had said this to draw her attention, which wasn’t true. “What?”

“Bill.”

He was new. This was his first night and already something was happening. He was still in his room, no doubt, panicking and not able to clear his head in time to escape. He’d lost a lot already, and Duke felt for him.

Lee sighed. “Really?” There wasn’t a clear policy against helping others if it endangered your own life, but Lee swore to this rule. If she could make it out but didn’t help anyone else, then so be it. She wouldn’t feel guilty for not saving them, for she was able to say that she had survived another day. She could make up for this later, to other people. Except this later never came. Duke, on the other hand, made a promise.

“I have a responsibility,” he said. Either he was leaving with Bill, or he wouldn’t leave at all.

“Damn it, Duke,” Lee reacted. She’d rather see him go with her and the others, but she couldn’t stop him. “Good luck.”

Duke nodded. “You, too.” Lee ran for the last emergency exit, while Duke returned to the room where Bill would sleep for the duration of his stay with this group. It would cost them time, but Duke’s conscience would be clean. Hopefully, he wouldn’t come to regret this later.

He rushed to the fourth floor, where they had found an empty room for Bill. He wished to stay as close to the ground floor as possible, but the only available rooms with this criterion were on the fourth floor. It was not an ideal situation. Either way, Duke ran to the staircase, climbed two floors before exiting onto the fourth floor. Room 419, at the end of the hallway. Inconvenient, but at least he had a private room.

Duke did not knock. It was an emergency, there was no time to knock. He burst through the door. Bill was sitting on his bed, his head in one hand, the other resting in his lap, his back turned to the entrance. 

“Bill!” Duke shouted. Even from this high, through the opened window, he could hear their war song mixed with different other songs floating in. Who could’ve thought music and singing would ever make him feel this anxious!

The same, it seemed, was happening to Bill. He shivered, he did not move from his current position at all. Duke had seen it happen before - completely locked in his head, unable to do anything. Just stuck, and stuck without hope of breaking free from it without help. 

“Bill, this is not the time to shut down,” Duke sternly told him. He stood in the door opening and glanced in the hallway - nobody was trying to sneak in. For now. “We’re in a situation here. There’s infected here, I mean, you hear them too, right? We gotta go, now.” 

Duke waited for Bill to say or do anything. But there came no response. He was off worse than when they first met. He’d stopped shivering, but that was no indication that he actually heard what Duke had said.

“Are you even— Bill? Are you listening?”

Again there was nothing. Bill sat on the bed, one hand holding his head and the other resting on his lap. He was utterly and completely unresponsive.

Okay, that’s it. If Bill didn’t want to get up and walk himself, Duke was going to drag him out. It was going to cost them time, but they at least were still trying to get out of this stupid mess to see the next sunrise.

Duke walked around the bed, so he could stand opposite Bill, pull him up from the bed and then just pull him along. When Duke stood in front of Bill, the man stood up and a sharp pain grew in Duke’s stomach. He looked down. bill had rested his hand on his lap; in this hand, he held one of the knives he must have swiped from the cafeteria.

Duke looked up at Bill. His face was emotionless. Panic rose within Duke, took him over, while the pain spread rapidly through his body and burned all the energy in him. 

“You—” _You stabbed me!_ But why would Bill—? Wait a minute. No way. Duke frowned. “You…”

A twisted grin appeared on Bill’s face. One that did not fit him at all. Way to unnatural and creepy. 

“Take what you want, return what you get.” 

Bill did not want anything. The spores that controlled him did, though. They took what they wanted and made those creatures return the favor with others of their species, just like Bill had just demonstrated. 

Bill pulled the knife out of Duke, who fell to the ground. He stabbed Duke some more times, during which his protests and defense attempts grew weaker and weaker, until he was gone. 

A minute later, Duke returned. The clothes camouflaged the stab wounds, which no longer bled red but oozed blue. Duke locked eyes with Bill, an instant connection forming between the two. They left the room in silence and looked for more victims.

The Hive’s plan was a success. The strategy skills it had learned from the countless strategists it had possessed had come to good use. Bill had been inconspicuous at life, so now he could do the same. Making the shell act like he was not an empty shell was easy; just take how he would act as if he weren’t possessed at this time and let the simulation run. 

The population of the Plaza Hotel was more than decimated. Only a handful of people eventually made it out alive; the others were converted like Duke. The Hive was satisfied with the people it had taken, but furious some had made it out. 

It had come a long way since landing on Earth. With each mind added, it learned more and more about humanity, their flaws and virtues and sins, their strategies, and coping mechanisms. Their distrust towards strangers as well as their instincts to help others in need, if they were selfless enough and not cowardly. And, most importantly, it learned from the PEIP agents strategies to lure others in, to earn trust and to strike at the right moments. While the trust was being earned, everything heard and seen by the shell it had chosen was added to the Hive. Until there was nothing more to learn and the Hive could strike.

An unfortunate side-effect was that humans, despite the minds the Hive had access to, were not as stupid as it thought they were. Some could flee; some could make it out and evaded the inevitable. The Hive did not like this. So much so that it focused on tracking those who got away, at the expense of other fractions wandering around the planet.

You can imagine the Hive was not pleased at all when, during this pursuit, it had lost Paul Matthews - their greatest achievement - to the humans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn't my best work, but thank you for reading this to the end.


End file.
